Dancing
by Sharkbait1
Summary: Newly updated Chapter 5! The story so far: Ginny's first crush (Harry doesn't count) and she's, well, she's a little lost with the whole thing. This Chapter: Ginny shock Harry into silence, and...a plot twist? Rated for (very) slight language R/R!
1. Dancing

Dancing

The Grand Beginning (revised)

In which Ginny learns to Dance

Oh, by the way, I'm sorry (really sorry) if my O/C seems Larry-Sueish.  Sad thing is, he's kind of modeled after someone I know.  :P

Rated for (very) slight language.

Please R/R, although flames will be mercilessly mocked.

The demigoddess, JKR, owns all that is recognizable (pretty much everything).  Warner might have some sort of claim to something, I don't know.  I don't own anything.   In fact, a good part of my own plot and/or interesting details (like the Glamour idea) may be pirated from other authors who I can't remember right now, but are doubtlessly awesome.  If someone recognizes something, mention it and the original source in your review, and if it's merited, I will thank the author formally.  If you recognize something of yours, I am already eternally in your debt.  The masquerade ball idea comes in part from another god of an author, Piers Anthony.

**********************

Dancing

**********************

_Damn!_  Ginny cursed under her breath. _There he is again. God, he seems to be everywhere. _

The fifth year redhead quickly found something in her bag to be interested in as the tall, striking Gryffindor Quidditch captain strode past.  'Something', however, turned out to be a romance novel her mother had tucked into her hands at the start of the year with an air of wistful nostalgia.  Blushing fiercely at her unfortunately ironic 'choice', Ginny had to consciously force herself not to turn around and look for the receding back of Jason Thibeault.  Weaving through the crowded hallways towards Charms, she couldn't help but wonder haw she had become so stupid-crazy over a _boy.  Embarrassingly, she found she knew _exactly_ how._

*********************

Earlier that year, Albus Dumbledore had decided (much to the chagrin to the majority of the senior staff) that one ball during the school year was simply not enough.  Halloween was chosen as a suitable excuse for festivities, and a masquerade ball was planned.  The 'masquerade' part of the ball was concocted as one-half evening entertainment, one-half lesson in Glamourie, and one-half unsuccessful discouragement of date-making. (The halves overlapped somewhat, but no one was quite sure how.)

After two weeks of excitement that rose as steadily and predictably as a tide, 'costumes' were decided on, practiced into the ground, and perfected.  Ginny had to admit that when she entered the Great Hall for the first time that evening, she was surprised at the time and effort people had put into their Glamours.  Their only guidelines were to arrive fully changed and unrecognizable, and of the same gender as per usual. Having been given these rules and told to make a splash, the Hogwarts population responded in force.

Ginny was assaulted from all sides by Muggle celebrities, magical beauties and abhorrances, and, of all things, a huge purple elephant with orange splotches shaped like roses.  The youngest Weasley, with only a minor artistically creative streak, had settled on an extremely pretty if overly gaudy version of Aurora, a medieval potions mistress who accidentally drank some of her own primitive Draught of Living Death and waited some hundred years for an antidote to be invented.

Having steadfastly ignored the leering stares and catcalls coming from a group of apes in the corner of the Hall, Ginny told herself she would linger for only a few dances before escaping to the cool autumn night air and her own skin.

Before she could even make her way over to the refreshment table for punch, however, she was accosted by a lederhosen-clad sock salesman with a familiar twinkle in his eye, and asked to dance.

"I'd be delighted, Professor," she replies gravely, and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor for a polka.  When the dance was over, Ginny bid farewell to the Headmaster-Incognito and restarted her Quest for the Snack Table.

Cautiously avoiding some oversized garden gnomes in the middle of the dance floor, Ginny continued on her way to the punch bowl.  Sipping over-daintily she surveyed the goings-on all around the Great Hall with detached interest.

The afore-mentioned gnomes had now cleared a large circle of the floor and were now performing an act she, unfortunately, knew all too well.  It was an exuberant jumping, flopping and jerking routine that her brothers had also picked up over the summer with the Muggle television Dad had nicked from Ministry storage.  Now graduated and well on their way to infamy with their joke shop, Fred and George were still a constant amusement at home.  What was it they had called it? Shatter dancing?  No, that wasn't it.  Sighing, Ginny turned to look for Hermione, whose costume was a glowing, radiant dryad with wispy, strawberry blond hair and green-tinted skin.  As she turned to scan the area next to the High Table she found herself staring into the most gorgeous brown eyes she had ever seen.

Surprised, she blinked, gaping as the medieval prince standing in front of her dropped into a half-bow, his eyes never leaving her own astonished brown ones.  As he rose, the corners of his mouth turned up in a half smile, and he offered his arm,

"Shall we, fair princess?"

Closing her mouth quickly, Ginny gulped, plastered a suitably flattered smile on her face, took his arm, and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor.  A slow, beautiful waltz was emitting from one corner of the hall.  Dumbledore, not particularly wanting a violent mutiny from the other professors, had hired a perfectly normal, sane, string sextet to play at the ball instead of the usual horrible wizarding pop music.

As he took her right hand in his left and placed his right hand on her shoulder blade, Ginny suddenly remembered she didn't know how to waltz. 

                "I don't know how to waltz," she blurted.  _Smooth, Weasley, smooth, she thought, kicking herself mentally.  Her unknown prince smiled again, laughter playing in his eyes and on his lips._

                "Well, then, princess, I guess I'll have to teach you."

                Blushing furiously, Ginny interested herself in her feet until his gloriously delicious voice made her look up again.

                "So…in the waltz, the basic idea is to float…not literally," he amended, seeing the slight astonishment in Ginny's eyes.  "Muggles actually invented this in the 1700s – we sort of picked it up from them.  Follow my lead;  it goes kind of like this…slow, quick, quick, slow, quick, quick…"  

                He guided her slowly, not following the music but rather her own ability.  Ginny felt a flood of warmth and satisfaction as she picked up the steps and they began to move around the dance floor.  He was still talking, smooth as silk, and every time she missed a step or looked at her feet he was right there, talking her back into the rhythm of the dance. 

                His hand on her shoulder blade was like magic, a whisper of a touch telling her where to step next, guiding her around the Hall.  It felt heavenly, like a light, knowing massage in an unexpected tender place.  

                When the song ended, Ginny stood, eyes closed, willing it not to be over.  As he gently dropped her hand, he whispered into her ear one last thing before disappearing into the crowd.

                "I'll find you for another dance."

When he was gone, Ginny still stood frozen to her place, the warmth and well-being she had felt slowly fading, leaving an unsatisfying, unsettling cold she was sure hadn't been there before. 

The rest of the ball whizzed by in a foggy blur, with Ginny stumbling her way through perfunctory dances with a replicated Aiden Lynch and a clumsy, overgrown toad who could only be Harry and Neville, until Professor Dumbledore's magically-amplified voice rang through the crowded hall.

_._ "Please find a partner for the last dance – after which we will unveil our true identities."  His Glamouried thumbs hooked through his Glamouried lederhosen, the headmaster was fairly buzzing with the excitement of the whole proposition.

Another waltz, faster than the first, began.  Standing on her toes scanning the crowd, Ginny couldn't pick out the prince who had promised her the dance.  Dropping back onto her heels, she had nearly turned to leave when she saw him weaving through the dancing couples towards her.

Trying desperately not to look too excited/relieved/desperate, she gracefully accepted his offered arm and swept onto the floor.

They were dancing with more energy and familiarity this time around, turning and twirling and even going backwards, once with Ginny catching him just before he ran into the huge purple and orange elephant who was dancing impossibly with a small pink faerie.

They chatted more easily this time, with his comments becoming more and more funny, entertaining.  Once, he commented in an offhand sort of way, "You're the best partner I've had in a long time."

Ginny, thoroughly unused to such compliments, was surprised to hear herself say, with a slightly wicked smile, "How long is long?  Five minutes, maybe?" 

 'Her' prince nearly started to protest, but changed his mind and chuckled lightly instead.

When the dance drew to a weary close (the musicians had been playing for well over three hours now) the twinkly sock salesman re-_sonorus_ed his voice and commanded, with a dramatic sweep of his wand – 

-_Finite Incantatem!-_

With a shower of light, a grand puff of smoke, and a strange hissing sound, the Glamouries adapted by the whole Hogwarts population melted into a puddle of fizzled magic on the floor.  Ginny, now a good four inches shorter, found herself staring up into the still-gorgeous chocolate eyes of Jason Thibeault, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.

If he were surprised to find it was her, he was quick and effective at hiding it, as he looked at her with appraising eyes, said "Princess," softly once more with a hint of a smile and disappeared into the crowd of overexcited, oversexed teenagers.

**********************

Yay! Celebration!  My first chapter of my first (good, worthwhile, insert adjective here) story!!

So….The Big Question….WHAT HAPPENS???

Heh.  

Review, plz…I'll try to get another chapter out soon.  It is actually written, but I'm not the fastest typer in the world.  


	2. Thinking

Dancing

Chapter Two

In which Ginny is late for potions, and has a near-breakdown in an empty classroom.

Disclaimer:  Not mine.  Never will be, unless by some freak of nature and/or the universe I somehow a) marry into JKR's family or the Warner domain, b) I suddenly wake up one morning and have enough money to buy the aforementioned bodies out, or c)….wait, there is no c).  Damn.  Guess I'm outta luck.  Oh,  wait, no…the plot _and Jason (Thibeault) are mine.  *CELEBRATE!!!!!*_

***********************

An uneventful if overlong Transfiguration lesson followed Charms, and Ginny only just had time to drop her books in her room before heading down to the Great Hall for lunch.  Slipping into her customary seat beside Hermione and across from Harry and Ron, she couldn't help but notice Jason at his normal seat just down the table, just as she had noticed him at every meal since the ball.  Ginny sighed and began to push her mashed potatoes around her plate in a hopeless, miserable sort of way.  _It would be bad enough seeing him only at Quidditch games and at a distance once in a while_, she thought almost bitterly for at least the fifth time that week.  _But nooooo, he has to be in my House, hang out constantly in the Common Room, and sit less than four feet away from me at meals three times every bloody day!_

She punctuated this last unspoken remark by chomping down violently, but missed the unfortunate morsel of food and viciously maimed her tongue instead.  She let out a high-pitched yelp of pain before blushing furiously and clamping her hand over her mouth.  Looking up, and still testing the inside of her mouth for serious wounds, Ginny caught a pair of deep-brown eyes watching her for a moment with amusement and maybe a bit of grudging concern before flicking their attention back to the ongoing conversation about the Kestrel's recent win over the Harpies.  

_Hmph__.__  Boys and their Quidditch, Ginny thought mutinously._

"Gin? 'r you okay?" asked Ron, narrowly missing Harry with bits of fried chicken.

"Yeah.  Just a few small problems with the whole chewing number.  I'm getting a little rusty," she answered drily.

"You've been really distracted lately," announced Hermione in her very best 'you've-got-a-problem-I-can-probably-fix' voice.  "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Uh – no,"  Ginny replied in _her very best 'conversation-closed' voice._

Ron looked ready to pursue the subject, but Harry interrupted with the very unrelated topic of the next Hogsmeade visit, which was scheduled for the following weekend.

"…It's about time, too.  I have quite a few presents I still have to buy for Christmas."

Ginny nodded her grateful assent, while Hermione piped up with the (helpful) comment of "Oh, really, you lot.  I did most of my shopping in Muggle London before term started, and the rest I'm getting mail-order.  It's _much easier, and my presents will be a bit more original than a box of Chocolate Frogs."  She said this last comment with a pointed glare at Ron, who merely rolled his eyes and attacked another chicken leg._

Watching out of the corner of her eye as the crowd or seventh-year Thibeault-followers rose and left, Ginny let go of a breath she didn't know she had been holding.  Following her gaze, Harry leaned forward and said in a low, conspiratorial tone, "That bloke, Tybalt or whatever, really isn't all he's cracked up to be.  His flying skills are mediocre at best, his aim is questionable, and his strategies are more complicated and half-assed than either Wood's or Angelina's were."

Ginny smothered both a smile and a correction regarding Jason's name.  Ron, having caught the general idea of Harry's mutinous mini-tirade, added, "That, and the git let his unbelievably uncoordinated mates take over beater _and_ he stole Harry's rightful captainship.  Ever since he transferred here from – where was it? Beauxbatons? – he's been acting like the team's always been his, even though Harry's been on it for, what, six years now? Stupid exchange program."

"It's only six if you count fourth and fifth year, Ron, and we hardly had  Quidditch then…" Harry's correction was, for the most part, ignored, as Ron, now a keeper on the Gryffindor team, continued to mutter darkly under his breath. Ginny, thoroughly disgusted, rose and left the table, heading upstairs to collect her books for her afternoon class.

Hurrying down towards the dungeons for double Potions, Ginny was rummaging through her bag looking for her favorite quill when she ran into a rather large moving object that had just propelled itself from around a rather sharp corner and directly into her path.

"Hey, watch it!  Some of us actually have places…" The chastisement died on her lips as she noticed those eyes.  Those eyes.  Damn.  She mustered a rather fake annoyed sigh and tried to push past.  

She had only taken a couple of steps, though, when she heard him say, "No, that had a prmising ring to it.  What were you going to say?"

Ginny whirled to face him and his half-mocking smile, angry at her own reaction to him, but also quite worried about being late to Potions.

"Stuff it, Thibeault.  Stuff it up where your broomstick is lodged, so far you can't ever get it back!" she spat, before practically running down the corridor towards the dungeon.

Slipping silently through the classroom door, Ginny saw only Snape's back as he scribbles complicated formulae on the blackboard.  Hoping against all hope he would not acknowledge and/or comment on her tardiness, she crept forward towards her usual seat.

Without even halting his writing, Snape growled "Ahh, Miss Weasley.  How nice or you to join us.  We'd better make it – 7 – points from Gryffindor."

Ginny ungracefully lowered herself into her seat, face flushed.  "Damn him! No, both of them!" she muttered to her parchment and quill.  Colin Creevey, her partner and close friend, shot her a vague questioning glance, which she dismissed with a slight, equally vague head movement.  For the rest of lesson, she had to force herself to concentrate on the Amplifying Draught they were supposed to be making.

Emerging from class 173 minutes and 1½ loud lectures later, Ginny chuckled slightly to herself that, ironically, most of Snapes' volumes had been caused by the Draughts' malfunction, not its intended result.

"Good to see you're in a better mood," Colin commented good-naturedly, easily lengthening his strides to match Ginny's rather clipped paces.  "When you came into class, you could practically see the anger falling off of you in waves.  Red and orange."

"Really?" Ginny asked, slowing slightly and allowing Colin to get ahead of her in the corridor.

"No," he replied, turning and flashing her a mischievous grin, "but we're studying auras in Divination and I wanted to see if you fell for it."

Ginny pretended to glare menacingly at him before cuffing him lightly on the back of the head and settling back into an easy, matched pace.  Colin could always cheer her up somewhat, even if he normally messed up by…

"You were pretty upset, though.  Wanna talk about it?"

…trying to be sensitive.

"No."

"Oh.  'Cuz, y'know I'm here…"

"I know."

"Oh."

They walked in silence for a while before Ginny deliberately lost him in a crowd of chattering fourth-years and ducked into a conveniently appearing empty room.  She watched from the doorway until Colin was nearly out of sight, as yet unaware or her absence.  _He's a nice guy,_ thought Ginny of her friend, _but a little bit of a dolt sometimes._

Closing the heavy wooden door, she closed her eyes and slid down against it, resting her head in her arms.

Ah, confusion.  She had once seen, through the window of a Muggle taxi on the way to King's Cross, a denim skirt in a Muggle shop window.  'Confusion is Sexy', it read in messy letters near the cuff.  Ginny allowed herself a tiny smile as she realized she had two distinct opinions of the sentiment.  "Whoever wrote that _obviously has never met Neville Longbottom" and  "If only…"_

She sat in relative immobility and thoughtlessness for a while, the pure lack of anything concrete relieving.  When she started to get numb from sitting on the stone floor, Ginny lifted her head to glance at her wristwatch, which was now flashing in large orange and green letters – YOU'RE LATE – VERY LATE

"Shit," she hissed under her breath, quickly gathering her books and shoulder bag and rising to leave the room.   She was in such a hurry she didn't notice the tabby cat sitting stiffly in the corner, tail twitching only very slightly.

**********************

To all my reviewers - THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU!!!!!!!!  

(That's at least two each, so don't let me hear any fighting J)

Unfortunately for me, this story does indeed involve a semi-real account of an…experience I had/am having.  Damned teenage hormones.  They airbrush reality, did you know that?? 

Anyway, whoever said writing was therapy was a genius.  And, since I'm not entirely sure anyone's ever said it before, I must be the genius.  Yay!

Anyway, plzplzplzplz r/r!!!!

LUV Y'ALLZ!!


	3. Flying

Dancing 

Chapter 3

In which Ginny starts to hallucinate (?) and watches a Quidditch game.

Disclaimer:  (Insert inane does-not-belong-to-me drivel, I'm sure you've heard it enough times to be able to make it up for yourself.  I'm not getting rich enough to do it for you ;)   )

Sorry it's a little short.  Unfortunately I didn't have the foresight to _finish the story before I started posting, so I'm running into a bit of writers block.  If you have any ideas, please, PLEASE leave them in your reviews.  Which at this point are inevitable.  Right?...RIGHT???_

******************************

                Frustration and –guilt, surprisingly- punctuated Ginny's thoughts for the next weeks.  Mornings, meals, evenings entailed unavoidable contact.  Jason showed up in hallways, conversations, and trains of thought everywhere Ginny went.  She started to try to avoid the hallway that housed trophies and awards on the second floor so as not to see his name on the gleaming brass there.  She would walk by the Gryffindor common room's unofficial event board/community photo album and flick a glance to his grinning photo there, then mentally kick herself for it as soon as she passed.  

                Ginny became convinced that either he was following her around, or she was becoming paranoid and prone to hallucinations.  He would sit across from her in the common room, talking loudly with, well, anyone, and her eyes would follow the lines she was reading blindly, her brain focused on every word out of his mouth.

                She even began to think he did the same, sitting and staring into the fire as she played wizard's chess or Exploding Snap with her friends on the floor right behind him.  She began to notice his eye contact.  They would hold gazes for a second, two, maybe, when they passed each other, encountered each other in the common room.

                With awareness came doubt, fear.  Hope.  _What if he notices me? Sees me everywhere?  Remembers my laugh, my hand on his? Does he imagine…_

                It was at this point that Ginny always arrested her thoughts, locked them up without bail.

December crept up on Hogwarts without warning, covering the colorful Forbidden Forest with a blanket of chill.  The ceiling of the Great Hall, normally depicting a clear and crisp, sky turned turbulent and cloudy.  Despite the gloomy weather and encroaching darkness, Gryffindor was set to play Ravenclaw in an evening match.  Dinner was early, a thick potato soup and steaming crusty rolls.  Jason, Harry, Ron, and the rest of the team ate in tense silence.  The rest of the table was equally tense.  Even the chattiest of the Gryffindors seemed to cower, intimidated by the screaming silence.  This game was especially important to them.  It was their second game, but Ravenclaws third.  They had already beaten Hufflepuff and Slytherin earlier in the year.  To win the Quidditch Cup, it was essential Gryffindor won this game against their rather formidable opponents.  As the captain of the team, Jason was undoubtedly feeling tremendous pressure to make his team perform flawlessly.  Ginny watched him from under her eyelashes, counting the number of times per minute his jaw clenched.

As if they were all puppets on the same string, the team suddenly rose from the table to head to the change rooms.

On impulse, Ginny called, "Hey! Wait!"  Three team members paused and turned around.  Eyes fixed on the team's captain, she added, "Good luck," before flicking her eyes back to her brother and friend.  They gave terse nods, and followed Jason out of the Great Hall.

***

Hermione was busy treating everyone in the stadium to snow-repelling charms when Ginny wove her way through quivering Gryffindors to join her friends.  

                After shooting a blue jet of warm light at the younger redhead, Hermione patted the bench beside her in invitation.  Ginny sat, but was mostly oblivious to Hermione's cheerful but rather inane chatter.  She watched the Gryffindor team huddled below on the pitch, their red robes only barely visible through blowing snow.  They broke the huddle and arranged themselves irregularly on their side of the itch.  The Ravenclaws, already shivering in their blue robes, similarly formed on the opposite side.  

                "…don't you think?"

                "Hmmm?...sorry,"

                "Don't you think the teams would really benefit from a grand Umbrella Charm over the pitch?"

                "Oh…yeah, sure."

                A whistle blew, and fifteen brooms rose, straining, into the turbulent air to play.

                After an hour, the Chasers were so numb and exhausted they could barely hold the Quaffle.  The Beaters were frequently hitting abnormally large snowflakes instead of Bludgers, and Ron had nearly reduced himself to burning the goalposts for warmth.  

                Madame Hooch's whistle blew again, and the teams descended to the whitened turf to rest and recuperate in a ten-minute time out.

                Hermione stood and motioned Ginny to follow her.  They moved quickly through the icy crowd, down the stadium's wooden staircase and onto the pitch.

                Hermione quickly renewed the players' snow-repelling charms and conjured an iron stove and steaming kettle. Adding cups to the set-up with a wave of her wand, she then busied herself pouring tea as Ginny started handing the steaming mugs to the players.  Most took theirs without comment, stamping their feet and attempting to discuss strategy.  Their scarves blew like sodden wooly flags in front of them, and their robes whipped in the cold wind.  Holding one last mug out to Jason, Ginny flushed slightly as his bare fingers brushed against her mittened ones.  He caught her eye and gave a tiny nod of thanks before turning back to his team.

                Hermione and Ginny made it back to their seats just in time to hear Madame Hooch's whistle and see the players rise again into the swirling sky.

                Barely five minutes later, the whistle sounded again.  Her magically-amplified voice cut through the wind.  "Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor win, 240 points to 90!"

                A halfhearted cheer rose from the red and gold section of the crowd before the mad rush for the castle, and warmth, began.

                The Gryffindor common room was full of people.  Dancing shadows flickered on the stone walls from the huge fire blazing in the hearth. Cloaks and robes shed, most people were now in their pajamas, celebrating Gryffindors second straight win of the year.  Ginny was staring into the fire, hugging her knees to her chest.  Her trademark Weasley jumper, in blue, stretched at the sleeves to cover her hands, and crept up to her chin, turtleneck-style.  She felt very small and insignificant in the room full of noise and celebration.

                Someone, probably a member or two of the team, had produced triumphantly a case of butterbeer, which was being passed around among the older house members.  She recognized Colin's voice rising above the rest.  "A toast!" This was encouraged by a general roar from the partiers, so loud it made Ginny want to bury her head somewhere warm and dark and silent.  "A toast to Harry Potter and the Gryff lion pride!" Another, louder roar this time, accompanied by the clink or many bottles.

                Ginny could hear, feel Jason behind her and to the left, laughing and talking with a group of seventh-years.  She could picture his smile, the way he held his head when he laughed, and how he furrowed his brow when concentrating.  She closed her eyes, rediscovering what she didn't want to know.  _Why am I so bloody obsessed? We danced, what, twice?  I've danced with people before…_

                Rising stiffly from her curled-up position on the hearth, Ginny quickly found her older brother among the reveling teens.  "Congratulations on the win; tell Harry too when you see him…"

                Leaving the party behind her, Ginny climbed the stairs to her dorm, where, exhausted and worn out, she collapsed on to her bed, gathering just enough energy to draw the curtains around her before drifting, melancholic, to sleep.

****************************************

ARGG!! 

Although I may like this story on the whole so far, I'm not too impressed with this chappie.  Oh, well.  What can you do when it's midnight and freezing?  Anyway, review please, as always.  I'd really like that kind of constructive criticism everyone always talks about.  Might help a little, chain my story back to the gritty grindstone of reality.  Or close to it, anyway,

This chapter goes out to Kim, who is under the impression my A/Ns are constructed solely to make her laugh.  *Sigh* She's right.

Buh-Byes!!


	4. Drinks, Anyone?

Dancing

Chapter 4

In which Ginny has a rousing argument with Harry over Jason

Disclaimer: Not Mine. (If you need more than that, hit the back button on your screen until you get back to some sort of menu, and choose a random story.  Look at that author's disclaimer, take it to heart, and come back.  Then review!!)

Ummmm…am I allowed to say no comment? No?...Nyehhh…no comment. Oh, but sorry this took so long.

*********************

                Winter had crept up on the school once again, and the halls suddenly seemed empty, as they were wont to do this time of year.  Ginny had a hunch this was in part because the paintings had the habits of finding deserted hallways, crowding into a few of the bigger landscape paintings, and holding large, drunken parties.  She had never caught them at it, however, so she said nothing to her friends. It was, though, a generally welcome quiet.

                Outside the window at breakfast that Saturday, the grounds seemed like a veritable winter wonderland.  Snowbanks made their careful way towards the still-open lake, which rippled and convulsed every once and a while when the Giant Squid shivered and sneezed.  Hagrid's hut resembled a tiny gingerbread house, puffing candy clouds of blue smoke from the chimney.  Even the Forbidden Forest was coldly happy, with various beast tracks leading into and out of it.

                All of the remaining students had been seated for the holiday around a large, round, polished wood table near the front of the Great Hall.  Steaming tureens of oatmeal sat in front of each content face, and when everyone had been seated, they dug in with the hunger and faint chill only a winter morning can bring.  The teachers, seated among the students, mostly tried in vain to keep the topics of conversation to something at least somewhat school-related, which was not easy with Headmaster Dumbledore telling a variety of borderline jokes that had the upper classes snorting into their bowls, and the few younger pupils turning to each other with vaguely confused expressions.  

                There were more students staying than most years. This was mostly due to the fact that Hufflepuff's Quidditch captain had decided that Christmas hols were a delightful time to get in bonus practice on an abandoned pitch, and, not wanting a disadvantage when term started again, the three other teams soon signed up to stay as well.  

                In between mouthfuls of sugary oatmeal, Ron was telling Ginny how "…bloody unfair it is, I tell you…off to Romania to visit Charlie again! … You'd think they'd at least stay home one Christmas – one bloody Christmas…"

                Before he could start again Ginny not-so-gently interrupted him. "You're only upset because they won't let you come and see the dragons, too.  Bill and Charlie live half a world away; they only see them at Christmas.  They can see _you_ any time they want, which is precisely why they _don't_."  She then hurriedly turned to avoid the inevitable backlash.  Ginny hadn't, after all, lived with six older brothers for fifteen years without developing a tongue as acid as theirs, but she had yet to perfect the avoidance of verbal vengeance.__

                Hermione was on her other side, listening with detached skepticism as a sixth year Ravenclaw repeated Dumbledore's latest questionable joke very loudly to his friend right beside him.  Seeing Ginny turn in her direction, she tilted her head towards the younger girl.  "Honestly, he's the headmaster for God's sakes! Isn't he supposed to set some sort of example for the rest of us?  What kind of witches and wizards do they expect to come out of this school when this is all we're exposed to?"

                "They expect us all to be just like you, Hermione, which is the frightening thing.  I mean, seriously, if Fred and George were telling those jokes…"

                "Then no one would pay attention, because they always told jokes like that.  But the Headmaster is, well, the Headmaster, which means that the younger students.."

                "Will, presumably, try to emulate him in every way, including growing a fairly huge beard and wearing purple robes all the time.  Hermione, really.  They're impressionable, yes, but at least they're more likely to listen to every word _Dumbledore_ says instead of, say…"

                "_Snape__!!"  _

This last was said, quite loudly, in unison by the girls, who promptly burst into equally loud giggles, causing most people at the table to give them the Look before turning back to their own conversations, and the professor in question to narrow his eyes at them menacingly.

Forcibly containing themselves, the girls tried to concentrate on eating normally.  When the meal was over and the dishes had been recalled to the kitchen, Dumbledore stood, effectively silencing the room.  

"As you all know," he announced slowly, quietly, easily commanding attention as per usual, "Today was scheduled to be a Hogsmeade excursion." Anxious chatter broke out.  Was the trip to be cancelled?  "And, as there are no world crises on our doorstep, and the weather, according to the lovely Professor Sinistra, will be wonderful…" Here, the chatter took on a buzzing, excited feel, "I urge you to have fun –but dress warmly!  Wonderful doesn't mean warm!  Oh, and any colored or screaming snowballs will be confiscated for –safety- reasons." With this weird pronouncement the ever-twinkling Headmaster sat down again, and students started drifting away from the table, heading to their common rooms to either prepare for the walk to Hogsmeade or to lament about their unfortunate youth.  Ginny rose from the table and trailed Hermione, Ron and Harry to the portrait of the Fat Lady.  They were deep in conversation about who-knows-what.  Although Ginny was pretty sure she heard snips of conversation involving 'Lockhart', 'tevelision', 'prat', 'overgrown bat' and such, she was entirely sure she did _not want the full story, and therefore made no effort to join their conversation.  _

Once in her dormitory room, Ginny rummaged through her trunk for the small pouch containing the little spending money she had procured over the summer working in the Lovegood's family garden near Ottery St. Catchpole.  The small embroidered bag felt painfully light in her hands, but Ginny hadn't many more presents to buy; if she was lucky she would have a little bit left over with which to buy herself something for Christmas…

The walk to Hogsmeade was gorgeous. Ginny was walking with her brother, Hermione and Harry, along with countless other students towards the village.  Their breath vaporized in front of them in tiny clouds, and the new snow crunched under their feet.  Seeing as Dumbledore had forbidden them to make and throw colored and shrieking snowballs, these wet missiles were flying everywhere.  Ron streaked by in front of Ginny and Hermione, who were walking calmly and civilly, with Harry charging after him, purple snow falling off his head and down the back of his cloak, green snowball at the ready.  The girls, though, however innocent they looked, were plotting.  When Harry and Ron rejoined them, flushed and damp, Hermione hesitated only a few second before giving an almost imperceptible nod.  She and Ginny whipped huge chunks of snow from behind their backs, which immediately started sprouting bad disco music.  Harry's glasses were full of snow, and he tripped over an outstretched foot of Ron, who was shaking like a wet dog to get the snow off him.  Harry fell into a large (white and silent) snow bank, and Ron, still shaking, lost his balance and fell on top of him.  Ginny and Hermione were also on the ground, convulsing in laughter.  It was some minutes before they could be convinced that standing upright and containing their giggles was, in fact, possible.

The Three Broomsticks, although crowded, was not the packed affair it usually was on a Hogsmeade weekend.  In fact, the two Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were nearly the only ones there.  Since most of the students who had remained at Hogwarts were Quidditch players, the local branch of Quality Quidditch Supplies was no doubt flooded with eager players, Galleons at the ready.  Madame Rosmerta, after bringing their large foaming mugs of butterbeer to the table, retreated behind her counter, humming the latest Weird Sisters number and wiping absently at an imaginary water stain on the immaculate bar.  Ginny, sitting next to Ron at the edge of the table, had trotted off to her own world, unaware of the conversation the three sixth years were having beside her.  The room seemed cold to Ginny despite the fire popping and crackling in the hearth.  Pulling her warm cloak more tightly around her body, she sipped her drink, staring into space, barely thinking.  She flinched slightly when she felt the frigid gust of wind that signified the opening and closing of the Three Broomsticks' door, and looked behind her instinctively to see who else had foregone premium broomstick wax and designer twig trimmers for a warming butterbeer.  Ginny stiffened and quickly turned back to her friends when she saw the all-too-familiar form of Jason Thibeault shaking melting snow off of his cloak.  Her sudden movement had drawn Ron's attention, who waved Jason over to their table, stilling Harry's annoyed and disgusted look with a hissed, "He's our _captain, Harry.  Bloody hell, am I supposed to let him go sit in a corner by himself, giving him ample time to think about even __more plays to try and teach us?" ___

_Well this is _so_ much better,_ Ginny thought _Now__ you've got him at our table__, probably with the intention of talking about, guess what? Quidditch_!__

Indeed, as soon as Jason sat down, directly across from Ginny, he asked Harry if he had seen the brand-new Quidditch robes that were displayed in the window of the Quidditch supply store.  Ginny struggled to space out again, which wasn't really all that easy with Jason's head directly in front of the blank space in the wall she had been contemplating earlier.

Conversation, although halted at first, soon began to flow fast and furious, at least among the boys, with Hermione involving herself every once in a while to correct one of their most obvious flaws, citing _Hogwarts: A History_ as a major source.  Ginny found herself excluded, not maliciously or even unpleasantly so, but it irked her all the same.  Butterbeer mug drained, she stood to get a refill.  _Perhaps I'll sit at the bar.  It would be a change of scenery, anyway.  Maybe Madame Rosmerta has some interesting things on her mind…she sure looks like she's thinking –happy thoughts…_

"Hey, Gin!  Where're you going?" Harry asked, turning in her direction mid-sentence.

"Nowhere.  Bar.  Refill," Ginny replied haltingly, gesturing vaguely at her empty glass. She felt suddenly and annoyingly self-conscious under the scrutiny of four pairs of eyes.  _Huh.  They really do realize I exist.  Imagine that, she thought, allowing herself a tiny smirk as she turned with a completely superfluous flourish and heading towards the bar.   _

Scrutinizing the foam of her warm butterbeer, Ginny didn't hear the footsteps approaching from behind her. When a hand was placed right beside her arm on the bar, Ginny was so surprised she jumped, spilling a little of the beverage on her cloak.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that," Jason quickly apologized.  He reached for the cloth Madame Rosmerta had left on the bar, but Ginny beat him to it and started dabbing at the spot.

"Don't worry about it.  There's so much on this cloak I doubt anyone will be able to tell there's one more stain."

"I don't think they look too bad."

"Trust me on this one.  They used to be noticeably bluer."

"They were blue?"

"Told ya."

Jason shook his head, smiling, and, taking the mug of butterbeer that had mysteriously appeared on the counter for him, turned to head back to the booth, where Hermione and Ron had nearly come to blows regarding, well, some obscure aspect of the game of Quidditch Ginny would prefer to remain in ignorance of.

Next to come over to the bar for a refill was Harry.  It was hard to tell whether he was there more to escape Ron and Hermione's bickering or Jason's…existence.  

"Hey, Gin.  How're you doing?"

"Alright.  Why?"

"Jason's being a prig."

"He is no…Why?"  Ginny honestly could not tell what Harry had against Jason, even when trying to look at the situation objectively.

"Well…He's so…He never, _ever pays attention in Advanced Transfiguration, but McGonagall gives him close to perfect marks anyways.  Madam Hooch thinks he's heaven on earth, and…"_

"Jealous, are we?  Imagine that," Ginny interrupted, turning to talk to an imaginary spectator on her other side, gesturing to her brother's best friend over her shoulder.  "The-Boy-Who-Lived feels _threatened_ by his Quidditch captain.  That's one for the record books."

"Oh, honestly, Ginny, with the looks you give him all the time it's no wonder you can see him for what he really is, a…"  
                "A what?  A great, French, Quidditch-playing Dementor in disguise?  Really, Harry. Grow up."

"Fine, Ginny.  Be like that.  But, come on.  You're nearly like my little sister.  The closest I've ever had, anyway.  And trust me when I say that that bloke is bad news.  Really bad news."

It was all Ginny could do to gape, open-mouthed, at Harry's back as he retreated to the table.  _What was _that_ all about?  I'm already… she forced herself to think it __getting over him.  It's not like it was even ever a possibility.  He practically just told me to stay away from him.  Like I'm there, all the time, fawning over him or something.  Honestly…_

And with that last, disgruntled comment, Ginny became mystified by the swirling blue liquid in a bottle behind the counter, and drifted apathetically into space again, sipping the foam of her butterbeer and waiting for the afternoon to be over.

*****************************

Hoo-eee!  Betcha didn't see that coming!  (Don't worry, neither did I)  As for external (eg Darkness and Evil) plot, don't look for too much, this is more focusing (if you hadn't noticed) on Ginny and Emotion, not Magic, Hogwarts, and the Mystical Battle against the Dark Side.  Sorry.  Anyway, review, please, it's what keeps the chapters coming! (Quite seriously.  If I hadn't gotten a few specific reviews koff*kravenclaw*koff* this chapter may have never found the inspiration and energy it needed.  And, as always, thanks to Kim who is acting as my Beta and constant nag, trying to get me to finish this chappie.  Yay!

Buh-byes!


	5. Dinnertime

Dancing

Chapter 5

In which Ginny attempts to shock Harry into silence, and succeeds.

I'm not really going to try all that hard to excuse my long absence from this story, but I think I along with everyone else deserves closure, so here we go.  BTW, if I haven't said so already, this story has now passed entirely into the realm of fiction instead of having a slight and really rather pathetic link to my real life.  Yay!  Anyway…R/R, kk?

Disclaimer: It's not mine.  Except Jason, who barely features in this chapter, and the plot, which is so scarce I dare you to find it, much less copy it. ;)

***************************

Unfortunately, but predictably, when the four arguing Gryffindors were finished what butterbeer they had, Ginny was swept off of her bar stool and out the door with them into the dusky evening.  The now-fivesome wandered down the main street of Hogsmeade towards Zonko's and the train station, still talking loudly.  Ginny forced herself to be an active participant in their conversation, which had now switched mercifully away from the subject of Quidditch.  In fact, Hermione had, in making an offhand comment about the dismal quality of wizard rock music, quite successfully changed the topic of conversation to differences and discrepancies between Muggle and wizard music.  Jason, being wizard-born but casually French, had a rather –unique- view on the matter.

"No, no, you've got it completely wrong.  The first rock was made by wizards- who else do you think would dare try to sell such awful noise?"  Jason shook his head in mock bewilderment.

_Too bad he speaks perfect English,_ pondered Ginny wistfully.  Half of her brain was kicking itself –hard- while the other half barged on with the train of thought.  _'Cause French accents are dead sexy..maybe even more so than those adorable Aussie blokes…_  She shook her head violently, trying to dispel the sneaky, obsessive part of her that just wouldn't let anything –not even a handsome, older Quidditch captain- go without a fight.

Noticing the curious glance she was getting from Hermione, Ginny realized she had to cover, and fast.  "Rock music isn't just noise…" she commented, willing it desperately to sound connected to the conversation.  Then, seeing her friend's curiosity turn to full-blown skepticism, she amended, "Not _good_ rock music, anyways.  Some of the wizard stuff they try to force into our ears is atrocious, but Muggles seem to be pretty good at the whole venting-your-anger thing."

Harry, who had probably heard more Muggle music in his years at the Dursleys than anyone present, Hermione included, commented, almost to himself, "It's the lack of ability to blow things up…forces them to find something besides vases…"

"and aunts…"

"…to release the pressure, so to speak" He finished, glaring daggers at Ron.

"Aunts?  That's a story I want to hear," laughed Jason.

"No you don't." This decisive chorus from Ginny, Hermione and Harry only served to make Ron snort into the high collar of his cloak, and say in a low voice to Jason something that sounded suspiciously like "Tell you later".

Ginny looked over at Harry, who was giving her an annoyed look, and fought hard to keep her face straight and unemotional.  She raised an eyebrow at him, and was a little surprised when he looked away, shaking his shoulders as if there was something nasty on them.  She shrugged, unconcerned, and turned back to the conversation, which had turned to the school's professors. 

Hermione and Jason both turned out to have hidden talent for impressions, and they kept Ginny and Ron in stitches all the way back to school, though Harry grew even more sullen and stony-faced as they laughed.

***

At dinner, Ginny was seated between Harry and a burly, anonymous seventh year from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team whom Ginny didn't know.  Feeling bold, and encouraged by Harry's confiding in her that afternoon, no matter how misguided, she swiveled towards him in the middle of the soup course and asked conversationally, "Really, Harry, why is it that you dislike Jason so much?"

He dropped his spoon unceremoniously back into him bowl and looked at her, expressionless, but his eyes were awkward as they met hers. "On a first name basis, are we?" he said, midway between cynicism and forced levity.  She merely cocked her head to the side and continued to stare at him, forcing a response.  "I don't, really…" He trailed off as Ginny raised her eyebrow.  "OK, OK….it's just…every girl in this whole school seems to think he's this big saint, sent from above, to save us all from…from…ugly people, or something."

Ginny's lip twitched, but she kept a rather unemotional visage.  "Really."

"Really!  I swear; He's all swagger and no substance.  If you had classes with him, and actually listened to what he says – or tries to say – instead of staring at him as if he were a Greek god like all the girls do now…"

"Jealous!  You're jealous, aren't you, Harry Potter?"

"What! No, I'm not jealous!  Why would I be jealous of that big heap of rotten…" His (amusingly defensive) rant threatened to turn into something louder and more public than Ginny could handle, so she cut him off in the most effective way she knew.

Smoothing her hair back with one hand, she placed the other on Harry's knee, inching closer to him and leaned forward.  He stopped mid-phrase, mouth still open and hand frozen mid gesture.  With half of her brain screaming bloody murder, moved forward until their knees were almost touching. "He's right behind you…" She whispered, lips two inches from his ear.  Quickly, taking advantage of Harry's frantic search for his captain, who was not present in the Great Hall at all, she grabbed her bag and swept away from the table, oblivious to the fact that her rather uncharacteristic actions towards Harry had garnered the attention of at least one observant professor, and ran back the Gryffindor common room, barely reaching her dorm before collapsing in laughter on her bed.  Several minutes later, panting and holding a stitch in her side, she rolled onto her back and contemplated the ceiling.

                _So…Harry Potter is jealous.  Of a boy!  A man?  Does it matter? She sighed, rubbing her ribs where they still ached from her laugh attack, and sat up. _This could make for some interesting Quidditch...maybe I should develop and interest in how their practices are run.  Hermione could use some company- she's always out there watching Ron anyways…__

                Having thus decided to…observe human nature in action, Ginny smiled once more to herself and, humming something she had once heard on the Wizarding Wireless but could never quite remember the words to, pulled out her copy of the Potions text, and some parchment, and trotted down the stairs to the Common Room to study.

***

                The room was deserted, although an orange, dancing fire was built in the hearth, and Ginny sat with a sigh on an overstuffed loveseat in front of the flames.  She opened her textbook over her knees and unrolled a bit of parchment to write on, but couldn't concentrate.  After writing the title for her essay, "Uses for Niffler fur in Potions for Detecting Worth", she stared into the flames, doodling on the top of her parchment, and pondering how the flames weren't really orange, but yellow, with hints of red, blue, and even black in their bases…

                She woke up to amber eyes staring fixedly into hers.  She stared back blearily for a few moments, the jumped when she realized she must have fallen asleep.  Vainly scrabbling to keep her Potions text on her lap, she was casually aware of numerous others lounging around the Common Room, all much too interested in what she was doing.  As Ginny gathered her scattered belongings and tried to flatten her hair, which was staticky from the couch, Ron rose from his crouched position, laughing, and looked at his watch. 

                "Alright, who had 11:45?"

                "Ron!!" Ginny exclaimed, "What have you been doing?"

                "What have _I_ been doing?  Nothing! A small bet on how long you would sleep isn't anything, is it?  Don't tell me that counts as _something_!...Don't look at me like that, Hermione, I don't care if I am a prefect.  Gambling isn't illegal at Hogwarts, and besides…I think you've won!"

                Hermione's expression changed swiftly from admonition to surprise as Ron cut off her impending lecture, and then to badly-suppressed glee as she was handed a small bag of clinking Sickles and Knuts by a grinning Harry.  The room filled with groans from the losers, and Hermione, seeing Ginny's decidedly displeased expression, guiltily fled the room with her winnings.  

                More than a little embarrassed, Ginny closed her eyes again and let her head fall back onto the couch's back.  She felt the cushion beside her sink as someone else sat down.  Cautiously, Ginny opened one eye to see Harry beside her, shifting ever so slightly.  _He's certainly looking awkward…I wonder why that…Oh, yeah…_  Ginny allowed herself a smile as she remembered the little act she had put on a dinner.  She felt the couch sag on her other side, and sat up, still smiling, to see Ron lounging on her other side, hands behind his head, the picture of satisfaction.

                "I knew you wouldn't be mad, Gin," he said, sighing contentedly.  "After all, what little sister could be mad when her brother tries to make a profit off her unfortunate circumstance?"  Needless to say, he had to move pretty fast to avoid the cuff Ginny aimed at his head.

                Laughing, she leaned back into the comfort of the couch, the fact that Harry's arm rested nonchalantly inched behind her head going blissfully unnoticed.

***************************

Well, it's been a while to say the least, but here I am, on the unexpected but emphatic request of… someone… for closure.  I don't know how many people ever followed this story, or still held onto the hope I would update, but I thank every one of you, and suggest I just MAY be able to figure out how to end this.  Eventually.  Anyway, if you like, review, and if you don't please review anyway as long as it's constructive, I have to learn to take criticism, which is my problem that I must deal with. (Breath) Besides, I'm pretty sure this chapter makes no sense to begin with, but I'll post it anyway.

By the way, I have no wish or intention to rework the previous chapters to include revelations made in OotP, although I did (or will) change around the Quidditch positions a little so that Ron is Keeper, etc.  I don't think I've mentioned The Character Who Dies, and personality quirks that were expanded on are largely ignored.  Deal with it. ;)

Long story short, yeah, it's AU.

Bye for now!


End file.
